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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25785103">an introduction of sorts</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/shatteredhourglass/pseuds/shatteredhourglass'>shatteredhourglass</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Canon-Typical Violence, Drabble Collection, Everyone Is Poly Because Avengers, Implied Sexual Content, Implied Trans Steve Rogers, Multi, POV Alternating, Soulmates Activate Via Skin Contact, Time Skips, sorta mcu following but also not really</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 08:20:23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,034</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25785103</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/shatteredhourglass/pseuds/shatteredhourglass</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of moments in time where the world works in their favour, just this once.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton/Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov/Sam Wilson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>133</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>an introduction of sorts</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>
    <b>Steve + Bucky</b>
  </strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>
    
  </strong>
</p>
<p>Steve’s made the other kids angry again.</p>
<p>He can’t help it - his ma keeps telling him to leave things alone and that he’s too small, too weak, too brittle to make a difference to the world. They can’t even get his name right.</p>
<p>He’s still going to <em>try</em> but right now every bone in his body is aching sharp enough that he’s struggling to pull any air into his lungs, and he’s just going to lie in the pile of trash the older boys had pushed him in for a minute.</p>
<p>The world is cruel and sharp, and Steve can’t just turn around and leave when he sees bad things happening. He’d do it again, given half the chance.</p>
<p>Hopefully that’s not blood in his mouth.</p>
<p>Sometimes he wishes doing the right thing didn’t feel so lonely.</p>
<p>“I saw what you did.”</p>
<p>Steve blinks open bleary eyes - when did he close them? - to see a fuzzy shape standing over him. It’s a boy about the same age as he is, with brown hair flopping into his eyes and pants that are too short for him and reveal strangely delicate ankles. He’s frowning.</p>
<p>“You want to have a go too?" Steve’s not going to be able to put up much of a fight, but he’ll certainly try.</p>
<p>He tries to sit up and his whole body protests the action, pain rippling through him hard enough that he makes an involuntary whimper.</p>
<p>“Looks like they got you good enough already,” the boy remarks.</p>
<p>“I can take it,” Steve says weakly.</p>
<p>“Uh huh. That girl they were bullying, she your lady?”</p>
<p>“Don’t even know her name,” Steve admits reluctantly. He doesn’t really want to explain to a kid he’s just met that he attracts fights like a lamp attracts moths.</p>
<p>“Think you’re a hero, huh,” the boy says, and then holds out his hand. “Next time you should call for backup. Might get a better outcome.”</p>
<p>Steve stares at the hand. Looks back at the boy’s face, the startling ice-blue of his eyes.</p>
<p>“I’m Steve,” he says.</p>
<p>“My friends call me Bucky,” the boy replies.</p>
<p>Steve takes his hand, and his whole world rearranges forever.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <b>Clint + Natasha</b>
  </strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She’s getting away.</p>
<p>Clint doesn’t even know why he thought hunting down the Black Widow was a good idea. Something something proving that he isn’t a useless hack or a waste of resources, maybe it’ll be in the news and Barney will see, maybe he’ll finally fill that hole in his chest that’s been sitting there since before he can remember.</p>
<p>The Widow is fast - almost <em>too </em>fast, weaving through alleyways and over rooftops. It’s the middle of the night and her hair shines blood-red in the lights of the city. She kicks over a trashcan to trip him up and Clint vaults over it, a bullet grazing his cheek.</p>
<p>Clint can barely keep up with her and he grits his teeth against the sting, grabs for an arrow and realizes he’s run out.</p>
<p>“<em>Hey</em>,” a girl standing on the sidewalk shrieks as the Widow slides between her spread knees without missing a beat, keeps running.</p>
<p>Clint’s not small enough for that - perks of being twenty years old and having legs that are far too long - and he ends up knocking the cake in the girl’s hands to the ground. Shit.</p>
<p>“Sorry,” he yells at her as he skids around the corner, nearly crashes into a dumpster.</p>
<p>The Widow is snatching the keys from a man with a motorbike. She fires at him haphazardly but she’s distracted now, too focused on escape. He gets out of the alleyway, a meter away from her and then he’s suddenly struck by how <em>young </em>she looks, the nearly unnoticeable tremor in her hands as she shoves the key in.</p>
<p>The bike doesn’t start and she aims her gun between his eyes right as Clint pulls out his own (unused) handgun and points it at her.</p>
<p>“We don’t have to do this,” he says.</p>
<p>She snorts, doesn’t lower the gun. “What’s the alternative?”</p>
<p>The Widow’s so focused on him that she hasn’t noticed the man on the rooftop behind her, aiming his rifle right at her. He recognizes the boring old SHIELD outfit instantly, and he knew there was more than one person after her but he hadn’t realized they were this <em>close</em>.</p>
<p>Clint doesn’t shoot to kill. That guy will.</p>
<p>He’s not hard enough for this.</p>
<p>Clint drops his gun and dives for her.</p>
<p>They hit the ground with a thump just as the rifle goes off above them, Clint falling awkwardly on top of her. Somehow she doesn’t shoot him, and the SHIELD guy doesn’t shoot him, and she’s soft underneath him where her weapons aren’t poking him. Oh no.</p>
<p>What’s worse is that Clint can <em>feel </em>her doubt and fear and confusion like it’s channeling straight into him, and he realizes exactly what’s happened a second later.</p>
<p><em>What’s the alternative</em>, she’d asked him.</p>
<p>“Come with me,” he breathes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <b>Natasha + Bucky</b>
  </strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The Red Room told her that soulmates were for <em>people</em>, not for her.</p>
<p>They’d been wrong. Whether they’d been wrong about her being a person or that weapons who aren’t people can have soulmates, she doesn’t know, but Clint Barton terrifies her. She loves him with the kind of ferocity that would burn down entire cities. It’s scary and horrible and the most wonderful thing she’s ever experienced.</p>
<p>“Natasha,” Coulson says in her ear. “None of our other agents are reporting. You need to get him to a safe spot <em>now</em>.”</p>
<p>“<em>-want to talk to her,</em>” she can hear Clint arguing in the background.</p>
<p>“Down this corridor,” she directs the man she’s in charge of watching, and then there’s a screech of steel on steel and a dark figure drops from the balcony above them.</p>
<p>Natasha sees the crimson star on his shoulder and her blood runs cold. She pushes the target behind her automatically, prepares for a fight. The chances of taking down the Winter Soldier are slim but she can distract him, catch him off-guard and then escape to the panic room where he won’t be able to get in before reinforcements arrive.</p>
<p>Too late she remembers they’d put her in a soft cotton shirt for this job because of <em>disguises. </em></p>
<p>The gunshot rings out and Natasha’s frozen for a minute in shock, faintly registering the man collapsing behind her. Her fingers come away wet with blood and the low buzz of Clint’s emotions in the back of her head has risen to a scream.</p>
<p>The Winter Soldier’s face is covered with a black mask, an empty wall with no gaps. She can’t tell what he’s thinking as he tosses her aside, throws her against a wall hard enough for her teeth to rattle in her skull. He’s more interested in killing her target.</p>
<p>Natasha pulls out her Widow’s Bites, shoots it at the Soldier’s back. The shot lands with an audible crackle and the Soldier flinches, turns towards her. Bad move.</p>
<p>He grabs her by the throat, metal freezing against her skin, and Natasha wonders if Clint will be okay without her.</p>
<p>That’s not something she can allow.</p>
<p>Her breath is coming short now, vision blurring into static and black and all she can think is that she can’t go like this. She scrabbles desperately at the Soldier’s armour, mindlessly searching for weakness, for a gap, for <em>anything </em>and then her fingertips connect with bare skin and-</p>
<p>Apparently weapons <em>can </em>have soulmates, after all.</p>
<p>The Winter Soldier drops her.</p>
<p>Natasha watches him snap the target’s neck like it’s nothing and then he walks away, leaving her bleeding out on the floor. She can feel Clint getting closer and she closes her eyes, realizing too late that he probably knows exactly what just happened and she can’t lie to him anyway.</p>
<p>Maybe it would’ve been kinder to have no soulmates at all.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <b>Sam + Steve</b>
  </strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I can sleep on the floor,” Steve says.</p>
<p>“You could, but then I’d be making America’s finest hero sleep on my nasty carpet that I haven’t cleaned in a month,” Sam reasons. He's teasing, but.</p>
<p>“I wouldn’t mind.”</p>
<p>“<em>I </em>would,” Sam tells him.</p>
<p>It’s not a small bed and they’re not small people. Somehow they’re both on the very edge of their respective sides, like they might burst into flames if they touch. Steve is not wearing a shirt. Sam wonders if it’d be rude to ask Natasha if he can bunk with her instead.</p>
<p>Sam resists the urge to sigh, because then Steve would hear his sigh, and Steve would ask why he was sighing, and Sam would have to tell him that Steve is the reason Sam is sighing. He's sharing a bed with Captain America. What's he doing? What went so wrong with him as a child that he continuously gets himself into these ridiculous situations?</p>
<p>Steve isn’t asleep either, at least.</p>
<p>“So. What’s your plan? With SHIELD?”</p>
<p>“I don’t know,” Steve answers. He sounds tired. “I don’t have a clue what I’m doing, Sam.”</p>
<p>“Neither does anyone else,” Sam says. “You’re not special.”</p>
<p>He <em>is </em>special, but Sam’s not going there.</p>
<p>“I wanted to do normal things with my life, just this once,” Steve says. “Take a class. Make a cake. Go on a date. Get laid.”</p>
<p>The last one is so <em>surprising </em>that Sam doesn’t know what to say to it, and what comes out of his traitorous mouth is “I can fix one of those now.”</p>
<p>Steve rolls over to look at him. His eyes are wide and dark. “I think it’s a little late for baking.”</p>
<p>May as well go all the way. “That wasn’t what I meant.”</p>
<p>“I know,” Steve says. “I was giving you an out.”</p>
<p>“Do I look like I need an out?”</p>
<p>Steve’s lips curl up in a pleased, teasing sort of smile. “No. Just making sure.”</p>
<p>They don’t actually touch each other until their clothes have been cast onto the floor, until the sheets have been shoved down to the foot of the bed and Sam’s hand is sliding between Steve’s smooth thighs, up to where he’s wet already.</p>
<p>Sam’s so blindingly awestruck by everything that is Steve Rogers that he doesn’t realize that it’s not only his own pleasure he’s feeling until the next morning.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <b>Steve + Natasha</b>
  </strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, well, well. You and Sam Wilson,” Natasha says when Steve walks in.</p>
<p>Damn it.</p>
<p>Sam called the first shower and Steve can hear the water running already. No help there. He’s on his own for this one.</p>
<p>He’s got no clue how she could tell from one look, and he’d protest but he can already feel his face heat up to give it away. A sigh escapes him and he slumps into the kitchen chair opposite her, takes in her messy hair and lack of makeup. He doesn’t look any better, plus a few bruises on his throat.</p>
<p>“We’re soulmates. I… didn’t think it was possible,” he admits quietly. How often do you get so lucky in life?</p>
<p>“It’s more likely than you’d think,” Natasha answers. There’s something dark in her eyes, something that’s been there since he’d mentioned the Winter Soldier to her.</p>
<p>Steve thinks about asking. Decides he can do it once everything’s died down. “Did you get ahold of Clint?”</p>
<p>“He’s on his way back,” she says. “Pissed off that we’re having all the adventure without him, like you’d imagine.”</p>
<p>“We’ll be fine,” Steve says. “All of us. I promise.”</p>
<p>“I don’t know how you’re so optimistic all the time.”</p>
<p>“Being a pessimist doesn’t get anything done,” he tells her, gets a ghost of a smile in return.</p>
<p>Natasha looks so tired right now and it hurts him to see - maybe he gets attached too easily to people, especially when she could still double-cross him at any moment, but Steve still aches for her. Her hand is resting on the table, a bandaid wrapped neatly around her index finger.</p>
<p>Steve reaches out to touch the back of her hand, desperate to comfort her in some way, and instead he feels her mind light up right along Sam’s. She feels like <em>home</em>, and he feels himself smile even when she looks down at their joined fingers like it’s some kind of eldritch creature.</p>
<p>“We’ll be fine,” Steve repeats again automatically, links their hands together tighter.</p>
<p>“Maybe we will be,” Natasha says, a bewildered little smile on her lips.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <b>Sam + Bucky</b>
  </strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I can kick him out,” Shuri whispers conspiratorially to him.</p>
<p>Bucky waves her off. He can handle Sam Wilson on his own just fine, thank you, even if he can’t handle anyone else except for the princess of Wakanda, who is currently hefting a device the same size as him. She’s impressive, that’s for sure.</p>
<p>“Don’t let me interrupt your… whatever it is you’re doing,” Sam calls from where he’s made himself comfortable.</p>
<p>“You already did,” Bucky points out, making his way across the room to Sam.</p>
<p>Sam just raises an eyebrow at him.</p>
<p>Bucky’s pretty sure he’s just here because Steve’s making Sam keep an eye on him, but he can’t say he isn’t grateful for the company. Sam’s still younger than him by seventy years. It doesn’t seem like that much, though.</p>
<p>Steve is <em>so much</em>, and his connection with Natasha is a whole other mess entirely, and Sam's just... <em>normal</em>. He's comfortable. Uncomplicated. Kind of an asshole, really, but the good kind. The one where you’re not scared to be the honest version of yourself with all the ugly scars and angles.</p>
<p>"Take your goddamn shoes off," Sam grouches when he sees Bucky kicking them up on the couch, and instead of obeying him Bucky settles in a little more comfortably, rests his feet on Sam’s lap and smirks when Sam grimaces. </p>
<p>“This ain’t your house, Wilson.”</p>
<p>“Didn’t Hydra teach you any manners, Barnes?”</p>
<p>“You’re a jerk, you know that?”</p>
<p>“Oh, I’m so hurt. How will I ever recover from your third-grade insults?”</p>
<p>“I’m sure you’ll find a way,” Bucky tells him.</p>
<p>Sam doesn’t quite smile at him but there’s a light of amusement in his eyes that says maybe he’s having as much fun with this as Bucky does. There’s no expectations here, no gruesome or complicated past, just this. Bucky’s kind of in love with it, and he’s kind of in love with <em>Sam</em>, and his breath catches in his throat when Sam tugs up the hem of Bucky’s jeans, fingers hovering over the bare skin.</p>
<p>“Okay?”</p>
<p>And Bucky would never <em>ask </em>that of him, would never force Sam into dealing with the mess inside his skull that leaks out sometimes and makes Steve do that kicked-puppy look, or makes Natasha come over and sit close to him without making eye contact. It’s being freely given here though, and that’s something else entirely.</p>
<p>“Think you can handle me, Wilson?”</p>
<p>“I think I’ll manage, somehow,” Sam says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <b>Bucky + Clint</b>
  </strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Clint loves Bucky.</p>
<p>Okay, so he loves a lot of people. Clint knows he’s the worst kind of hopeless romantic; he falls a little in love with every person he meets, and sometimes he falls in love with things that aren’t even people. Mostly dogs, but he’s fell in love with old hole-in-the-wall coffeeshops, hideous purple outfits in shop windows, the neon graffiti along the back wall of his apartment building. There’s something special about everything and Clint likes enjoying the little things, when his brain lets him.</p>
<p>Bucky’s not a little thing, though. (Well he <em>is </em>compared to everyone except for Natasha but that’s because the rest of them are ‘freakishly tall,’ apparently.)</p>
<p>Clint knows that there’s no particular reason to try and romance Bucky when they’re clearly soulmates. All they really have to do is touch and that’s that, and it’s not like anyone else’s connection was particularly romantic.</p>
<p>Still, when Bucky comes back to New York, Clint takes him out for food and laughs at all of Bucky’s sarcastic comments, and they have movie nights where Clint shows him all the cheesy romcoms he’s missed and passes over the tissues when he hears Bucky sniffle over the happy gay couples. They spend hours down at the range shooting shit and talking about the crappy things they remember doing to people, things they’ve got no right to feel guilty about but do it anyway.</p>
<p>Clint doesn’t touch him, though.</p>
<p>Eventually Bucky just backs him up against a wall, plants one hand on either side of him on the wall so he can’t escape. “What are we doing here, Barton?”</p>
<p>“I <em>thought </em>we were watching Love, Simon, but I can’t see the screen anymore,” Clint says. He’s got a bowl of popcorn in his hands and he’s trying not to drop it but Bucky’s eyes are so intense on his face it feels like his body’s going numb.</p>
<p>“No,” Bucky says, slow like he thinks Clint can’t understand him. “Why don’t you touch me?”</p>
<p>“I touch you,” Clint answers, shifts his grip on the popcorn so he can poke his bandaged fingers into Bucky’s sweater. (It’s Steve’s sweater, technically, but Bucky seems to like stealing clothes. He’s also wearing Nat’s fluffy red socks.) “See?”</p>
<p>“Stop playing dumb.”</p>
<p>“Fine. I’m wooing you,” Clint confesses.</p>
<p>“You’re <em>what</em>?”</p>
<p>“I don’t know,” Clint says. Now he feels stupid. “I know we don’t get to pick our soulmates but I wanted to make it feel more like a choice.”<br/>
<br/>
It’s not like either of them enjoy having their choices taken away from them, after all. There's been too much of that.</p>
<p>The room is silent for a minute and Clint wonders if he should’ve just done it normally, whether this was a terrible decision on his behalf.</p>
<p>"You're an <em>idiot</em>," Bucky says, but the way he says it is quiet and delighted like he thinks it's the most wonderful thing he's ever come across. </p>
<p>Clint’s sort of expecting it and somehow it’s still a surprise when Bucky cups his jaw with both hands, the flesh one making his skin buzz as Bucky kisses him soft and sweet like they’re in one of those cheesy romances he likes so much.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <b>Natasha &amp; Clint + Sam</b>
  </strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Clint and Natasha wake up from a nightmare and decide to make hot cocoa. </p>
<p>They've gotten to that point where their minds absently reach out during sleep and tangle together, so it's hard to tell who's nightmare it was. It's a wonder the others don't feel it too but it seems to be just them, something to do with how long they've been connected. Natasha remembers sharp teeth and bright music, ice-cold snow and a sword glinting in the light. Delicate shoes, maybe.</p>
<p>Either way they end up helping each other out of the bed - Tony’s looking at mattresses that’ll fit five people, but right now they only sleep with each other - and stumble in the direction of the kitchen.</p>
<p>Clint fishes out the old kettle and Natasha finds the cocoa on autopilot, and they don’t notice the shape on the couch until Sam speaks. “Rough night?”</p>
<p>“When isn’t it,” Natasha answers.</p>
<p>Clint tips his head at Sam. “Drink?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, sure.”</p>
<p>Natasha tucks away the gun she’d grabbed onto automatically. It’s not a big deal; they all know she’s got one. Not to mention she’s got no doubt that Sam and Clint are similarly armed. (She hadn’t needed to ask earlier if that was a knife poking into her thigh or if Clint was happy to see her. It’s always both.)</p>
<p>Sam doesn’t elaborate on why he’s sitting on the couch in the dark. There’s no point in opening that particular box right now, though. He’s holding onto a book that looks far too heavy and dull to be studying at three in the morning.</p>
<p>“We’ll get out of your hair once we’re done,” Natasha says, in case he wants some time alone. Or if he just can’t handle two more potential soulmates right now.</p>
<p>Bucky threw a chair at Steve earlier because Steve doesn’t have any concept of personal space. They made out afterwards, but Sam was nearly hit by wayward furniture. It’s certainly interesting, having all five of them in one space.</p>
<p>She wonders what Sam sees when he looks at them. They’re not supersoldiers like Bucky and Steve - they’re tired, human. Natasha hasn’t removed her makeup from last night and it’s still sticky and smudged on her face, and some of her lipstick is on Clint’s bare shoulder. Clint himself is showing more bandages than skin.</p>
<p>Whatever he sees, something softens in his expression.</p>
<p>“Nah,” Sam says. “C’mere.”</p>
<p>Clint passes Natasha two of the mugs and Natasha takes them over to the coffee table. Sam’s sitting directly in the middle of the couch and she takes a spot to the left of him, knees spread enough that her sweatpant-clad leg touches Sam’s. Clint drops down on his other side, doesn’t say anything.</p>
<p>“You okay?”</p>
<p>“Me or Clint?”</p>
<p>“Both of you,” Sam says. “Package deal, right?”</p>
<p>Well, yes. She supposes they are. Moreso than even soulmates usually are.</p>
<p>“We’re okay,” Natasha answers for both of them.</p>
<p>“Good. You know where I am if you need anything, right? Anything.”</p>
<p>“Do <em>you </em>need anything?”</p>
<p>“I’d like a hug,” Sam says upfront, and Natasha catches Clint’s eye over his head, lifts an eyebrow. There’s no reason to say no and a million reasons to say yes, so they curl into him in unison, link their fingers together before they touch his cheek.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <b>Clint + Steve</b>
  </strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They all watch as Clint says something jokingly to Steve and Steve laughs at it, reaches out to pat Clint's shoulder. Sam thinks - <em>maybe</em>, this time, but Clint skitters out of the way just before they make skin contact. He doesn't miss a beat, doesn't give anything away and keeps talking away like nothing's happened. Steve puts his hand down on the seat between them instead and listens. </p>
<p>"Why's he doing that?" Sam shifts, leaning against Bucky's chest. His feet are in Natasha's lap and she presses her nails into the arch briefly, her eyes fixed on Steve and Clint. </p>
<p>"It's like he's allergic," Bucky says. "He never worried about touching <em>me</em> like that."</p>
<p>"They haven't even activated," Sam says. </p>
<p>"What? Why not?"</p>
<p>"He's scared," Natasha says simply.</p>
<p>Sam’s had sometime to understand the frequency of Clint's mind, and he’s dug into the anxiety and fear and the sliver of shame that Clint carries whenever he's too close to Steve, although he had to pull back after a few seconds. "He's still afraid he's not good enough for Steve, and he's afraid of what it means if he <em>is</em>."</p>
<p>"Funny, considering Steve’s soulmates with the Winter Soldier <em>and </em>the Black Widow, and he doesn’t give a shit about that," Bucky says, and they all fall into their own separate silences, probably thinking about their own inadequacies.</p>
<p>None of them were made to be perfect, though. That’d make it impossible.</p>
<p>Even Steve’s far from perfect. The man likes <em>mangoes</em>, for god’s sake.</p>
<p>"You think Steve's gonna run out of patience?"</p>
<p>"I don’t know," Natasha answers. "I hope he does. The disconnection is... odd." </p>
<p>“Fuck Steve, <em>I’m </em>out of patience,” Bucky grumbles, shifting Sam off of him. He stands up and pulls something out of his pocket. Sam’s about to ask what exactly he thinks he’s doing when he realizes the object in Bucky’s hand is a grenade - where was he keeping that? - and he throws it at Clint and Steve.</p>
<p>“Oh, Jesus,” Sam says as it lands at Clint’s feet and he looks down at it.</p>
<p>Natasha sighs.</p>
<p>"It's not active," Bucky says.</p>
<p>Steve, in true Steve fashion, tackles Clint away from the grenade so hard that it looks painful. Clint goes sprawling in a tangle of legs and purple, Steve curled over him protectively despite the fact he's not <em>quite</em> long enough to manage it. Sam cringes and then he feels <em>something</em>, like the final piece of a puzzle slotting into place, and Bucky snickers at the collapsed mess of their blonds on the grass.</p>
<p>“Now kiss,” Bucky yells at them.</p>
<p>“This is how it’s going to be from now on, huh,” Sam remarks to Natasha.</p>
<p>“Seems like it,” she agrees.</p>
<p>Ah, it's not that bad.</p>
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